


Forty

by coveredbyroses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 07:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17039501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: “It’s all lies. All of it. Even the sunshine is a lie.”





	Forty

**Author's Note:**

> Crack!Fic drabble for the wonderful @impala-dreamer ‘s “Tell Me A Funny Story Crack Drabble Challenge”

Turning thirty didn’t bother Dean. Not really. He’d been too distracted to really dwell on it anyway, with the impending apocalypse and all. 

But forty? Forty’s hard. He sees it in the mirror everyday, the shallow lines mapping his face. Feels it when he wakes up in the mornings. Just a strained knee, he tells himself, nothin’ to do with age. He hears it when smart-assed teenagers throw around the term ‘grandpa’ as they pass him on the street. Since when did disrespecting your elders become so fucking cool? 

“Mornin’!” you chirp, ambling into the kitchen. Coffee sloshes into your mug, steamy-brown liquid rilling up the ceramic sides, nearly gushing over the lip of it. You let your eyes flick over to Dean, who’s slouched at the table, fingers curved around his own mug, chin propped in a palm. 

“Dean? You okay?”

“Huh? Oh—yeah. Mornin’.”

He slurps at his morning beverage as you plop down in front of him.

“Okay,” you start, “what’s wrong?”

“Whaddya mean?” he grumbles, voice gruff.

“Dude. You’re moping. You have been for the last couple of weeks. Talk to me.”

Dean clunks his mug down, runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair.

“It’s just…do you ever…feel…old?”

Your smile is slow to form, but when it does you have to bite your tongue to keep the laugh in.

“Dean…oh, honey. Is that what all this is about?”

His features sharpen into a deep scowl. “Laugh it up, sweetheart,” he sneers. “Can’t wait to see  _you_ at forty.”

You sigh, press your lips together. “You know what? You’re right. It’s gotta suck.” You fold your arms over the cool table top, lean into it. “Think I know how to cheer you uh-up..” you sing-song.

His face softens then, brows quirking up. 

“Yeah?”

*****

“How the  _fuck_  are they outta pie?” Dean fusses, shoving the diner door open. “I mean, their goddamn special today is pecan pie!”

“They ran out, Dean…It happens.”

“Of course it does, of course—“ Dean freezes, snaps his face up toward the sky. “Is it gonna rain?”

“Probably, s’what the forecast said this morning…why?”

Dean brings his head down, jade eyes burning into yours. “Last night the forecast said ‘mostly sunny’!” He juts his jaw, shakes his head in aggravation. “Goddammit,” he grits. “I’m so fuckin’  _tired_  of this gloomy shit all the time!”

“Okay, let’s calm down, huh?” you coax, casting wary eyes about you as the hunter throws his tantrum. 

Dean sighs, exasperated, and you have to stifle a laugh as he stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest.

“Look, Dean…age is just a number, okay? And we can get pie somewhere else—“

“Bullshit,” he snaps.  **“It’s all lies. All of it.”** He throws his arms up toward the gray heavens,  **“Even the sunshine is a lie.”**

You can’t stop the giggle that bubbles past your lips then. “Okay, grumpy,” you say, tucking yourself into his side. “Let’s go find you some pie.”


End file.
